Five Times Thorin Was Jealous and One Time He Wasn't
by Words of Heresy
Summary: As it says in the title. Thorin/ Thranduil or Thorinduil SLASH - Can be read as a story or a series of one-shots
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This can be read as a series of one-shots or as a story :). It's also part of my From the Ashes universe.

* * *

"What is your problem?"

"My problem, King under the Mountain," hissed Thranduil, "is your tragic lack of patience."

Thorin snorted and pulled away from the elf, holding the cold, blue eyes that were glaring down at him in frustration.

"Why do I even need to learn how to dance? It will only look ridiculous. What with the height difference and all, people will think you are wedding a child!" snarled the dwarf.

Thranduil lifted his head to look snidely down his nose at his fiancé.

"With the way you are acting now my king, one could hardly blame the guests for making such an assumption."

Thorin growled and grabbed the front of the elf's tunic, jerking roughly to bend him at the waist. Thranduil caught off guard allowed the dwarf's manhandling until the tip of his nose brushed up against Thorins'.

"I am a child, am I?" he growled and ran the tip of his nose along side Thranduil's. The elf shivered, eyes falling half-mast, and opened his mouth to speak, when a quiet knocking interrupted him. Deftly he pulled free from Thorin and straightened his tunic before calling out.

"You may enter."

A young dwarf lass pushed backwards through the wooden doors, shuffling in and turning to face her lords, her hands piled high, up to the chin with fresh laundry. She blushed, casting her eyes to the floor at the sight of her king and his elven consort, both of whom had their gaze fixed firmly on her.

"My lords," she muttered and made an attempt to curtsey, but the pile of cloth made her tip precariously to one side. She caught herself, but just and with another blush made haste to cross the room to the wardrobe. Thranduil smirked as he watched her go, casting a calculating look at his lover.

"Young maiden," he called, charming his voice to suit his ruse. The dwarf-lass turned from the wardrobe in such haste that she all but toppled to the floor when the hem of her skirt caught under the heel of her boot.

"Your highness?" she squeaked. Thranduil smirked.

"Could I trouble you for a moment?" he asked then gestured to Thorin, "I am attempting to teach your king the finer points of ballroom dancing, however never having been taught the appropriate steps in his youth he is struggling."

The chambermaid held the startled deer look, so he continued.

"Would I be correct in assuming that as a fine dwarven lady you yourself are quite familiar with formal dance?"

The lass stayed frozen, then realizing she was asked a question nodded jerkily. Thranduil reached out to her with one graceful arm.

"If you would be so kind as to help me demonstrate the proper technique for the benefit of your king," he beckoned, "I would be most grateful."

The maid made another shaky nod and crossed the room. Hesitantly she placed her own stubbly hand into the graceful palm of the elf. Slowly they began to dance, the maid stumbling for the first few steps, still nervous with fright. But soon she picked up her confidence when she lost herself in the elf kings blue eyes and graceful, floating movement. None of the dwarven lads she danced with could ever compare to the perfect rhythm held by the King's consort. Her worries faded with every light-footed swirl and mirrored footprint, until she felt elevated to air. Finally the elf spun her out before rolling her back into his arms and gracefully dipping her into a perfect dive before once more pulling her up against him. He finished, like a true gentleman, by placing a courteous kiss on her ruby cheek.

"Ok, I see now," growled Thorin, and with such animal like ferociousness that the poor lass jumped and would have fallen had Thranduil not caught her mid-way to the floor. He released her and thanked her kindly for her help before graciously allowing her leave. She ran on swift feet, her king's growl following her escape like the warning of an angry dog.

"Do you?" asked Thranduil, his every word dripping with amusement. "Shall we try again, or must I ask that fine maiden to share the first dance at _our _wedding?"

"Fine elf, you win," spat the dwarf, stalking over to roughly place Thranduil's hand on his waist. Thorin maintained an impressive string of bitter muttering about conniving, tree-shaggers and shameless flirts, but Thranduil, who was far too satisfied with his victory, never once gave it heed.

* * *

**R&R**


	2. Chapter 2

The delegates from Lothlórien arrived with the setting sun. Ahead of the party rode Haldir and his brothers Rumil and Orophin. Halos appeared to surround them as the evening light played brilliantly in their golden hair.

Thranduil greeted them with the gentle familiarity of old acquaintance, taking a moment to introduce his son before doing the same to Thorin. The most arrogant looking of the three eyed the dwarf king with more then a hint of prejudice, his upper lip curling in distaste. His brothers, though of a similar opinion, ignored Thorin entirely during the introductions.

Thorin, however, didn't give two owl hoots what the tree-shaggers thought of him, and so the introductions passed more or less cordially.

Later, when they were sitting down for dinner at the grand table and Haldir took the seat to the king's left, having found out to his utter contempt that the right was permanently reserved for Thorin. The dwarf king began to take notice of how overly affectionate the golden elf seemed to become, with every goblet of wine he emptied at the table. By the time the feasting smoothly fell into merriment, Thorin was all but grinding his teeth at the constant touches the cursed elf was laying upon his lover. Like he was naught, but a common wench he was free to paw at his leisure.

"Your highness, I must compliment you on these grand festivities. I feel humbled that you should empty your infamous wine cellars in our honour," Haldir drawled. Thranduil waved him off.

"I have hardly emptied my wine cellars, and your company is more then adequate reason to throw a grand celebration."

"I fear a simple thank you will not suffice to express the depth of my gratitude on behalf of my people," persisted the golden elf and leaned in, so as to speak directly into the king's ear. Thorin watched his lover shudder at the cooling sensation of breath on the shell of his ear, and the sight of it made his blood boil. Thranduil's sensitive earlobes were his, god damn it, just like the rest of him. His and no one else's!

"I accept your gratitude, but it is unnecessary Haldir. It is my pleasure to have you here." Thranduil's voice was cordial but reserved. Thorin growled.

"If we were to retire to your quarters, my lord, it can easily become more of one," whispered Haldir, dropping one hand under the table.

Thorin smashed his goblet hard against the wood and stood up, throwing the dainty elven chair to the ground where it shattered dramatically. He pushed his rising lover back into his seat with the palm of one hand; and used the other to grab the scruff of Haldir's tunic and pull him ungracefully, face first into his dinner plate. Thorin then proceeded to drag the struggling elf across the bench, until they were face-to-face, with most of Haldir's torso and naval sprawled awkwardly on the table.

"You do not speak to my lover," he roared, "of fornication before me." Thorin pressed his nose against the cheese-covered nose of his victim. "Because the next time I so much as hear you speaking of him in an impure manner, or Durin forbid see you propositioning him before my very eyes," he hissed, voice dropping dangerously. "I will not hesitate to cut off your balls and feed them to you, elf!" He finished with a hard shake to the elf, and not a moment too soon.

A pair of hands dragged him back and away from the table, and Thorin found the culprit to be a very amused Tauriel. She maintained a gentle hold on him, more for show then any real means of restrain. When he turned to look at her over his shoulder she gave him a playful wink.

Rumil was laughing, while Orophin, scandalized beyond reason, was demanding action be taken against Thorin on behalf of his brother. Said brother had succeeded in dragging himself off the table and proceeded to wipe cream cheese from his nose, all the while glaring ineffectually at the dwarf king.

Thranduil sighed and lowered his challis to the table, his lips twitching just a touch at the right corner, so only his lover could see.

"I do apologise Haldir, but tempers are high and therefore I believe it would be wise to take care of this in the morning. If you will excuse us most kindly, the king and I will retire for the night and we will call a meeting and address this matter first thing tomorrow." Thranduil's voice left no room for argument. He grabbed Thorin by the sleeve of his tunic and dragged him towards their quarters. The tight grip that switched to his wrist and the stretched pace of his walk only meant one thing to the dwarf. Thorin swallowed. Thranduil smirked, feeling the dwarf's pulse skyrocket in anticipation. He had some disciplining to do.

* * *

**R&R**


End file.
